Come Save Me
by Sono la Notte
Summary: Short little WB rambling about a female novice in the Brotherhood, and she's having bad dreams. Tiny bit of altXoc, not much else. Okay, a large bit of altXoc...shouldn't be too annoying.
1. Chapter 1

_This idea popped into my mind pre-TDB, and I decided to write it._

_Name: Jude (don't really know her last name)_

_Age: sixteen or seventeen_

_Appearance: Very pale skin, incredibly blue eyes, black hair._

_Anything Else: Jude has had a speech impediment since she was a child, and this is a vital part of the story._

**Disclaimer: Do not own AC, but AC can stand for oh so many things...-evil grin-**

* * *

"_I kn-know you know s-something, old man. If I have to b-beat it out of you, I will." Jude stood there with her blade drawn and ready to strike, in spite of her threat. Not much of her face was showing, save for her chin. The gray hood that covered her face was doing its job._

"_A woman assassin? What nonsense is this?" he raised his voice in a childlike attempt to draw attention to himself. No one was around, though. He struggled, and the girl kicked his feet out from under him. He grunted as his rump connected with the hard stone. "Please, please don't kill me. I have—"_

"_A w-wife? Sons? D-d-daughters? All that m-matters to your kind is m-money. Now, tell me w-where he is!"_

"_I've heard word…he was moved to a jail in..." The answer was unintelligible. "They know you're after him, Lady Assassin." Jude looked away. No one will hear him scream, she thought. "Now…will you let me go?" she hesitated, her mind whirring. Where?_

"_Give me the n-name of your inf-f-former." She demanded._

"_His name is—" his answer was cut off by a body falling to the floor beside them, and after she looked up, the man was dead._

* * *

Waking Up is Hardest to Do

* * *

Jude was slammed back into reality by the cold water of the bucket by the door for those who slept in. But the dark of the early morning told her just the opposite. Blinking dramatically, Jude sat up; thanking the men around her that had awaken her. Tarim, the eldest of the novices, gripped her arm and led her outside the barn that served as the novice's sleeping quarters.

Jude was shivering in the morning air, and her wet hair and body didn't make it any better. "Jude. This is getting ridiculous. Go see your mentor. He's here tonight."

"A-Altaïr is h-h-h-here?" she stuttered. Her excitement showed in the pale moonlight. She rubbed her frigid limbs, which did nothing.

"You're incapable of not going a day without night terrors. It's been two weeks. Go see him. Now." Knowing that Tarim's word was law, she stumbled over to the fortress of Masyaf.

In five minutes' time, she was standing at the base of the stairs which led to Altaïr's chambers. Of course he had to pick the tallest tower, she thought bitterly as she began her ascent. Coughing idly, she finally made it to the top. She held her hand up to knock, but the door swung open wide and she dropped her hand, marveling at the figure in front of her.

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was a god to Jude. Nothing could hurt him, unless he allowed it to happen, which was rare. In his chambers, he takes his hood off, first thing, letting loose his close-cut shaggy black hair that falls in front of his almond-shaped eyes. His eyes were a tawny brown, the same color as his eagle's eyes. I could stare at his eyes for the rest of my life, Jude's first thought was. His lips were seductively smooth, and it took all of her self control not to run up and kiss them. They were permanently set into a frown, and those small moments when she catches him asleep or smiling sent her into a good mood for the rest of the day. Those lips were in a smirk now.

"Jude." Her breath caught in her throat when he said her name. "Haven't I taught you better?" he tutted. She looked down in shame. "And you look like you've been on a swim. Get in here before you catch fever." He pulled her in by her sleeve, careful not to touch her. His dimly-lit chambers allowed little comfort for Jude, but all she needed was to be in the presence of her mentor and she'd be in a state of euphoria. The chill wasn't even bothering her. Altaïr suddenly looked up from his mentor. "Come in, Tarim." Tarim? Jude thought as surely enough, Tarim walked in, his tall stature making him almost as tall as Altaïr himself.

"Sir, may I speak with you?" Tarim cast a glance in Jude's direction.

"Outside." Altaïr gestured to the balcony leading out. They walked out, and Jude sat and tried to make herself warmer, though she couldn't help but look over at the two men.

All she could hear and see were urgent mumbled words, followed by a question from Altaïr. Jude saw Altaïr tense and grip the sides of the balcony, his back to her. He looked up quite suddenly, and told Tarim to leave. Quickly scampering away without a second look at Jude, the door shut and audible footsteps lead away from the room, and suddenly she felt all alone.

"Jude." She barely heard her name, and wondered if it was a trick of the wind. She did nothing, feigning stupidity.

But Altaïr had said her name. He walked over to Jude, and placed his hands over hers on the armrests. He knelt down in front of her. Her face suddenly became very hot, her breathing pained.

"What am I going to do with you?" he said to himself. This isn't right, to let a girl as beautiful as her go through suffering like this, he thought. He fell back against the floor, crossing his legs. "Tell me the dream."

Jude started to talk, and, save her stutter, was only interrupted by a few detailed questions from her mentor. When she was finished, she said, "And I usually w-w-w-wake up s-s-screaming. The other b-boys tell me I…s-s-s-say things in my s-sleep."

"Yes, yes, what kind of things?" Altaïr asked. Jude was flooded in heat. Embarrassment, thought Altaïr.

"Mo-mostly what I s-s-s-say in the d-dr-dream." Her teeth chattered and she bit her tongue. She was grateful for the distraction. She _hated_ lying to Altaïr. She had said things like "Wh-wh-where is Altaïr?" in her original language, English. The boys teased her about the strange occurrences in training, mocking her high girl's voice.

"And after you've awaken, do you often see the man in the day?"

"What d-d-do you m-m-mean?" he obviously didn't care about her stutter. Not ever before has he mocked her of it, and for that she was grateful.

"Does he appear to be there, but is not?"

"N-no!" did he think her insane? "O-only in my d-d-dreams." She shook her head. After this statement, Altaïr sat in silence, contemplating. Jude didn't dare move.

The lone candle on the table next to Jude went out after a few hours, bathing her smooth skin in moonlight. Altaïr stared in awe for a second, before going to light another candle. He shook the thought of her writhing in her bed, whimpering for him, out of his head. Tarim had told Altaïr the truth, and as long as Jude didn't know that, it didn't matter.

"Since I am back," Altaïr began, making his apprentice jump. "We will train in the afternoon. I would like for you to sleep in here for a while."

"What?" Jude started. Sleep…in here? She looked around fleetingly. Altaïr was already four times as strong as her, and twice as fast. If he had something in mind, he would get it. "S-surely you don't mean…?"

"Not at all. Unless that's what you were implying." A coy smile drifted over his face, and Jude quickly shook her head. "Well, you should go to get your things. I shall prepare a room for you up here." There were three other rooms at the top of the tower: a library, to the east, a room that held chamber pots to the north, and in the west, there was a slightly smaller sick room in which Altaïr would be treated for injuries and diseases.

"Thank you, Master." she whispered slowly, as to not stutter.

"Speak louder girl. What say you?" Jude was taken aback. Surely he had heard her.

"Th-th-thank you, m-ma-master." Jude looked down at her lap.

"The night is cold. Please sleep. I will wake you for the morning bell." Jude was still frozen in place. Where should she go? She rose, slowly. Altaïr, noticing her hesitation, took her by the arm and led her to the bed. "Sleep."

"But…Master…wh-where will you—?" she was cut off by him pushing her to the sheets, which were so…warm…

* * *

"_T-tell me where he is!" her blood pounded in her veins._

"_Lady Assassin, I know nothing!"_

"_I w-will beat it out of you if I have to!" she screamed._

"_I have heard…he is in…"_

* * *

"Jude." The word was barely a whisper, but she jolted out of sleep, breathing hard. "Shh. Tell me what you saw." Altaïr's words rang in her head, buzzing about, making them unintelligible.

"I d-don't know. It's always th-the s-s-same. I don't know wh-what or who I'm l-looking for, or where I have to f-find it but I do." Her face was set into a pout. Her stutter was even worse now.

"We'll find out." Jude suddenly liked 'we'. "Now. Get dressed. We're going down to the river this morning." She nodded, and swung herself off the bed. Some fresh clothes were in a chair next to the bed, where Altaïr was sitting. He stepped out onto the balcony. Jude began to undress and noticed a mirror in the corner.

Her pale skin was like chilled milk, and it almost sparkled in the morning light, save for a few white scars or patches of dirt. Her feet were small, and she often bounced on her toes when there was nothing left to do. Her legs were slim but strong, and with them came great speed and agility. Her stomach was flat, and toned, something unnatural for a girl her age. She never wants to be a mother, and loves her independence. Her breasts were round and supple, but were always tied off with bandages in order to work better. Her arms were long and strong, and her hands were small yet deadly. What a girl, to know so much, thought Altaïr as he watched her reflection in his own hand mirror.

Jude slipped on her novice's robes, and tied them off with the customary red sash. Her weapons were in the barn; Altaïr had chosen not to get them. She looked around for them, but she realized if Altaïr had not gotten them, they were not going to use them today. Altaïr turned around and walked over, and Jude's face suddenly became very hot by the way he looked down at her slim form. She finally gathered up the courage to look up at him. Even her eyes seemed to stutter.

It took all of Altaïr's control not to kiss those perfect lips, and gaze into those immaculate wet, bright blue eyes for the rest of his life. He knew these feelings were wrong, and to be for a girl as young and beautiful as her, but he couldn't help himself sometimes; he had to guide her hand with his own calloused one. He had to hear her cute stutter while she answered needless questions from him. He had to wipe away those tears that fell agonizingly from her eyes during the night. Those eyes had captured him from the day he saw her, and he knew she was special. Immensely special. And he loved her, but could not admit it aloud, not even to himself.

* * *

_I know the point of view keeps jumping around, but it was just a little bit of rambling while I'm on writer's block for Teardrop Bureau._

_Review?_


	2. Chapter 2

_What is this?! Chapter TWO!?!?!_

_Quick update to all the people who Author-Alerted me for Teardrop Bureau:_

_I'm alive. I'm on horrid writer's block. I'm another year older. I...can post SOMETIME in April, if my beta still lives._

_Go bug _**The Elven Spear**_, for he is my beta. But not before you read this._

**Disclaimer: I do not own, scheme to own, or like Assassin's Creed. There are two lies in the last sentence. Find them.**_  
_

* * *

The clank of sharp swords against one another brought them both out of their daze. The fighting circle's noise eight stories below was drifting up into Altaïr's tower. Altaïr grabbed his own weapons and stepped out of the room without a second look back at Jude. What nerve, she thinks every time something like this happened.

His faint footsteps told her to snap out of it and hurry up. She clambered as quickly out the door as possible. Without Altaïr in the room, it had suddenly grown colder and scarier. When she reached his side, instead of speaking, she kept quiet, like a good novice would. They reached the dining room and sat down to eat. The maids served the usual bread and dried meat, with the hot black tea she loves. She nodded at them, and kept her eyes down, the hot stares of the other novices burning holes in her hood, she was sure of it. She was ready for Altaïr to look up and tell her that her head was on fire.

In fact, he didn't say anything at all. She breathed in a rhythmic manner, sending Altaïr into another trance. He almost forgot how to breathe himself. He had no idea what they were going to do. He had just said "down by the river". Maybe they could swim…?

No. Definitely out of the question. She needed to be distracted from this mess. Either way, he would drown before anything could happen. His fear of water was always irrational, and constantly Malik, who could swim, even with one arm, would tease him about it. "You sink in water almost as fast as you can jump off a structure." He had said once. Altaïr hadn't spoken to him in the week following that, and had nearly drowned a number of times, had it not been for the passing rowboat that took him back to shore.

She was lacking in her reflexes. Suddenly he knew just what to do.

* * *

"C-c-can we s-s-st-stop, just for a m-m-moment?" she asked. Her face was as red as blood, and it sported a handprint from where Altaïr had unintentionally smacked her on the forehead. She was getting sloppy, and was gazing at the water with the eyes of a strained creature.

"Fine. But we're doing fifty more drills." Jude knew not to groan, and was happy he didn't see her scratch the raw skin on the underside of her arms. She found it strangely comforting. She'd been doing it for weeks—scratching the skin dry and rough, and blaming it on a burn later. It made her feel like she was alive. Sometimes, when she tried really hard, she would scratch the skin until it bled. This would put her into a euphoric state, and she functioned better, if at all clearer.

The water that she had been allowed quickly quenched her thirst, and she got back up, rubbing the coarse fabric over the irritated skin of her forearm. Cinching the strings on the end, she got back in a fighting stance.

Altaïr struck to her left, her arms shooting out of their previous position to block the move, while her other hand curled into a fist, ready to plow into Altaïr's gut. He sucked in a breath before impact and spun around, reversing her grip on his forearm so that he now grasped hers. The faint yet determined smile on her lips faltered into a slim line of fear. Altaïr's eyes flashed in surprise for a moment before he stuck his foot between her stance, kicking her legs from under her. She slipped and fell to the ground with a small _oof_. Some pieces of gravel stuck to her sweaty body, and she brushed them off as she got back up. That was one drill. Forty-nine to go.

"Again." She said quietly before he could say anything. He nodded, his previous question washed away by her newfound determination. They began again, each time ending with Jude falling on her back or face. About thirty drills later, Altaïr noticed that her concentration was slipping yet again. He studied her as she righted herself. She used her right arm to right herself—not an odd thing at all, for she was right-hand dominant—but she often cradled her left arm when she thought he wasn't looking. She would rub it vigorously, and it looked painful. "A-a-again." Altaïr was shaken out of his thoughts.

He nodded, and began again. He tried to get on her left side, but she kept changing her stance, sometimes walking a few steps into the cool river. The bank they were standing on was always in shade, with the exception of high noon, of course, and it provided both a steady surface but a slightly lenient falling surface, as Jude had soon learned.

Eventually he got on her left side, throwing kicks and punches at her, along with the occasional grab at her forearm. He wanted to learn more. Why was she acting this way? She tried a jab at his shoulder, and he slapped it away, the sharp sound echoing through the valley. She rubbed the red spot on her hand, slyly moving her palm up to her forearm. Finally Altaïr got fed up with this action.

"Stop, will you? It's like you're willing that arm to grow." He said. She immediately stopped, folding her hands in front of her, as you should when your master was speaking to you. You always obeyed your master, although it would've been hard at times. Always.

"I ap-p-p-pologize." She stuttered. Her face flushed in embarrassment, like it always did whenever she spoke to Altaïr. Anyone else was never a problem, even when they would make fun of her. But she knew that their words didn't matter. Only Altaïr's did.

"Don't apologize. Lift up your sleeve." He said abruptly. She looked up at him quickly, her gray novice's hood falling off in the process, and her hair tumbling out as well. She had been meaning to cut it. Her eyes pleaded to him.

"W-wh-what?" she asked. She must have heard him wrong.

"Lift up your sleeve." Altaïr said softly, pulling his hood down as well. No one else was in the river's valley, and no one would recognize them from that far up. Jude's eyes were as big as saucers, begging him not to do this. His own eyes showed indifference, and a sliver of concern.

"Why?" she asked quietly. The slow trickle of the river was louder than her voice, but Altaïr had caught it.

"I didn't teach you to question my orders, just to obey them. Lift up your sleeve, girl." She bit her lip and looked down at her feet. Letting out the breath she was previously holding in, she lifted her sleeve up, her eyes closed in shame. She remained silent as he examined her marred arm.

It was red, and raw, like one enormous, unhealed scar. It was hot from the friction of the sleeve on the skin. He traced his fingers lightly over the wound, and she shuddered involuntarily. He put her arm down, and let the sleeve fall back into place.

Her knees were trembling, and she didn't realize this until she had collapsed to the ground, spent from the combination of a bad night's sleep and the excessive combat practice. He knelt to the ground next to her. "Why are you doing this to me, Jude?" he asked. She didn't realize that he had said "to me" until much later.

"I don't-don't-don't know." She said in her monotone voice she had been trained to use. "It j-j-just _happened_." She said.

"Things like these don't 'just happen', Jude." He said, searching for her eyes. When she finally looked up, he saw that her eyes were filled to the brim with tears. He felt the familiar tug in his chest again, the want—the _need_, to help her. He felt his own feelings shut down, one by one, until there was only Jude.

Suddenly, the alarm bell began to ring. They both stood, forgetting the previous moments, or at least trying to.

* * *

_Altair is waaaay OOC in this, (or in my opinion, I usually write him in character really well) and I'm mainly just doing it to get it out there that I'm still alive._

_Review, and this will probably become the fluffiest fic on here.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

_Whew, it's been a while since I've written THIS story...well, might as well get all of my overrated Altair X OC fluffage out of the way. I don't want it dragging into any other stories of mine...ZOMG BLEEDING EFFECT!_

**Disclaimer: Don't own AC.**

* * *

Jude looked up at the top of the cliff at the same time as Altaïr. The river beside them seemed to quiet with the sound of the alarm. "Let's go." He said, darting up the trail. She followed after him, matching his pace, but three meters behind him. The hems of her robes were getting dirtier and dirtier as the wet parts hit the dust and rocks. When Jude reached the top, Altaïr was surveying the battle. It looked to be a bunch of Saracens, no problem for the Assassins' forces. But there were a lot of them, and they were only so many. "Here. You know how to use it." He said, handing her his short sword. She nodded at him and he jumped off the wall they were standing on and into the pile of horse's hay below. Once he had jumped out and ran towards the castle, she prepared to follow suit, centering her mind like Altaïr had taught her.

Rough hands pushed Jude over a split second before she was to jump. She was caught off-guard, and found herself flailing around in the air before she hit the pile painfully. She had landed with my face down, something that was never supposed to happen.

Jude lay there in shock and exhilaration for a second before a heavy, masculine body fell on top of her own from above. Jude grunted loudly and scrambled to get out, her airway being suffocated by the rank hay. A hand grasped her wrist and pulled her out. The moment she was out, she immediately spun around and broke the grasp, unsheathing Altaïr's short sword.

Three Saracens stood in front of the novice. One exclaimed, "A woman?" and she took the advantage that they were distracted to dispatch two and hold the last one at sword-point. Jude's hand did not waver as her voice did when she asked why they were here.

"We were told to attack from the front. We don't know why." He said. He looked to be about eighteen, and was obviously one of the few that were drafted in against their will.

"Y-you haven't k-k-killed anyone?" She asked in a growl.

"No! No, I would nev—"

"Then get-t out of here." Jude pointed the sword towards the direction of the gate. "G-go home."

"Thank you, Lady Assassin." He said, bowing to her before flitting away through the crowd. A second later, he was cut down by an assassin named Abbas. His novice dealt the killing blow. She remembered that he was one of the three that had attacked her long ago.

And with that, Jude threw myself into battle.

She couldn't see where Altaïr was, nor did she want to know at the moment. A sword flew straight at her neck and she threw herself to the ground, striking out at her attacker with her feet. Jude connected with that magical spot down there and the soldier was down. A nearby assassin stabbed the short blade down into his stomach, and she sent a small prayer up for their soul.

Jude took out three more men before she was stumbling back to the edge of the fight. A soldier had kicked her in the stomach, and she'd fallen to the ground, rolling backwards from the powerful blow. Jude spat out blood and got up, scraping her forearm against a nearby rock, to give herself a rush of energy that she desperately needed.

With a shout, she ran at the man, who was a good head taller than Altaïr. She had only realized who her attacker was after he had hit her. His fists were like swinging piledrivers, and he carried a menacing mace the length of Jude's arm. He wore a sneering smile as he saw her take in his size and power. He didn't even acknowledge Jude's gender, as every single other man did. Maybe he was all brawn, no brain. Maybe he had heard ahead. She wouldn't get to know.

Reaching behind herself for her throwing knives, she realized with horror that they were up in Altaïr's tower. With a nervous little laugh, Jude sprinted away, hoping his legs weren't as strong as his arms.

She made my way up to the market, where Jude started climbing a ladder up to a third-story building. She was about halfway up when the ladder shook suddenly. Jude was so high up, she just gripped the ladder, frozen. She looked down. It was the man with the mace.

"Can't escape me now!" he yelled, his voice low and menacing. Jude attempted to move my leg up to the next rung, but I got about a centimeter up before she started pitching backwards, screaming. She fell against the hard-packed earth, and coughed violently when the air was knocked out of her. The short sword fell a little bit to the left.

The Mace Man took Jude's leg and started dragging her up the hill she had just gone down. Jude couldn't even move my arms, hanging limply above her head, to stop him. Her head was throbbing where it had hit the ground. The Mace Man was laughing while she attempted to jerk her ankle out of his grasp. Her head hit a rock, and she cried out, her hands flying to the delicate spot where her neck was exposed.

A cry of "FALL BACK!" resounded over the village. Jude didn't know who had said it, but the Mace Man kept dragging her up the hill. Through her slit eyes she could see the flags of the Assassins pass her by. Robed figures darted by, not sparing her a glance. Did they even see her? The big Mace Man was soon joined by other soldiers. Jude was picked up by her hood after they made it to the top of the hill. Mace Man made her stand upright, and she could barely keep her head up. She saw that the inner gate was closed. Her heart began to sink in her chest. She was too late. They were going to kill her.

"ASSASSINS!" Mace Man bellowed from behind Jude. "SURRENDER!" he laughed.

"Who are you?" Al Mualim had made his way to the top of the gate, and she could see archers in the towers around the front.

"I am Hakim Al-Sha'ar, LEADER of the Saracens!" he shouted, in her ear, no less. Her head was buzzing with the silence that followed his tremendous voice.

"Let the boy go, and we will negotiate." Said Al Mualim.

"I don't THINK so!" Al-Sha'ar laughed again, making Jude's stomach sick. "How can we let a boy go, when he is NOT a BOY at ALL?" he threw back her hood, revealing her face to the Brotherhood. Jude's hair spilled down around her shoulders.

"NOOO!" someone shouted. She looked up at the voice, finding his face instantly. Altaïr. He was wading through the crowd.

* * *

Altaïr's heart was pounding in his chest, ever since they had called the defense off. He couldn't find Jude in the crowd, and he'd been asking villagers if they had seen her. No one had known, so he had assumed that she was still out there. But when the gates had closed and the siege had come up with the novice, his stomach had dropped to his feet. No.

When they pulled her hood off, he had bellowed, "NOOO!" and started making his way through the throng of people, trying to get out of the castle. _I'm going to kill every single one of them if he hurts her…_

"So you KNOW this little HARLOT?" Hakim Al-Sha'ar shouted, making Jude flinch away.

"Yes we do." Said Al Mualim, his voice controlled and calm.

"I think we're going to have a little FUN with her, back at our CAMP." Jude looked up at Al Mualim, trying to find his eyes from under his hood. No, no, no. They couldn't _do_ this. He looked away from Jude, and towards the west, where the sun was beginning its descent from the sky.

"What is one simple novice to us?" said Al Mualim. Jude choked on my air, her world freezing with his words.

"Then I assume NO ONE will follow us?" Al-Sha'ar said, looking around him. Jude kept who glare on Al Mualim, who was practically handing her over to the enemy.

"No." said the Master, almost inaudibly for Al-Sha'ar.

"Good. LET'S GO, LADIES!" he shouted, making the men behind him cheer. "You'll ALL get a taste of this LAMB tonight!" he laughed, and Jude felt her heart pound in her throat.

It was then that she started to struggle; the world had come into focus. "No! Puh-please! M-M-Master, NO!" she screamed, struggling in Al-Sha'ar's grip. "Pl-pl-please!" she sobbed.

Al Mualim raised a hand to her, and turned away as she was bashed over the head, knocking her out cold.

Altaïr was waiting for them. He had discarded his assassin robes and changed into the armor of a dead Saracen, and he had slipped into the retreating crowd as stealthily as a snake. He listened with horror as they spoke of horrible things they would do to their "lamb", and Altaïr resisted the urge to slice every one of their throats. He followed in a determined silence, cursing himself for not getting closer to Jude. But he could hear the #!*% up front loud and clear.

"Should we…TIE HER UP?" asked Al-Sha'ar. The crowd roared behind him. "WHO WOULD LIKE TO UNDRESS HER?" he roared. The crowd got louder, and images flashed through Altaïr's mind. Had he been raised any differently, he would've roared with them. "TOO BAD!" he shouted, and the crowd laughed. There were only about fifty or sixty of them left. They had come in with two hundred. The assassins had done well, but not well enough.

"What the hell are you doing, Altaïr?" a voice from next to him had asked. He looked around, but all he saw were more soldiers. Altaïr locked eyes with one face—his best friend, Malik. Malik nodded to the back. Altaïr slowed his pace.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he asked in a low hiss.

"Making sure _you _don't get killed. Al Mualim sent me." He whispered. All the other soldiers were too engrossed in their sick fantasies to notice the grim assassins. "Why are you getting her?"

"Because she's my apprentice." He said, as if everyone knew that.

"If Kadar were your apprentice, would you go out and get _him_?" Malik's face went dark.

"Would you?" Altaïr leaned in to his friend's ear, gritting his teeth as he whispered the words.

"So you love her?" Malik looked straight ahead.

Altaïr opened his mouth to say something defensive and denying, but he just hung his head. "Yes. I don't know what I'd do without her." He said.

"Then let's go get her. Al Mualim has given us a day to bring her back before she is presumed dead. Here is the plan…"

* * *

As the two schemed, Jude had no idea anyone was following her. She was relying on her hair to keep her face covered while her eyes were going, memorizing the path. They were going to the Saracen camp. They were taking her prisoner. And no one was coming after her. Not even Altaïr, who had done nothing but shout.

Several hours later, Jude was tied up to a pole. The men had discovered that she was awake and they had beaten her. She kept a stony face, her mind going through the various techniques to get out of the bonds they had tied her with. They were fairly easy, and the gag wasn't that tight but it smelled of rotten cheese.

Night fell, and Jude heard the crowd outside chattering. Then, a _bang_! The guard in her tent left; this was her chance! She quickly pulled her hand through the loop behind her and untied the foot bonds. She rolled under the side of the tent, pulling her hood up and sprinting away, until she found a horse. It looked familiar, and she whistled low, then high, then low again. It was a Masyaf horse; it had trotted over. She pulled herself up and spurred it, heading off to Masyaf.

* * *

Altaïr didn't agree with Malik's plan, but he followed it anyways. He had punched the nearest man in the face (it wasn't that hard to find motivation) and created a diversion. When the guard inside the tent left to go investigate, Malik would slip inside and free Jude. A foolproof plan.

When the guard had pulled Altaïr back from the rest of the pile, he slipped into the crowd, forgotten instantly. He heard a familiar sound—the horses' whistle of Masyaf. He looked around, and saw a black mare galloping away, a white-robed individual on its back. Who was that? Altaïr went over by the tent, and jumped inside. Malik was at a loss. Jude wasn't there. "Where the #!*% is she?" he shouted over the roars of the Saracens.

"I saw her on a horse heading back! We should go; she'll get lost!" Altaïr said, and Malik nodded, rolling out the same way that Jude did, though he didn't know it. Altaïr took the same approach, and when he had stood up, Malik had called two horses over. Altaïr took the larger steed, as usual, and spurred off without a second look at Malik or the camp, though he knew that Malik was right behind him.

* * *

Jude was lost. She had taken a wrong turn and was wandering aimlessly through the kingdom, having no idea where she was. She was _not_ going to sit around and wait. She walked the horse in circles, whispering to it sometimes. "Do you know where Masyaf is?" she asked. "Can you get me there?" she asked, not stuttering because her voice was so low and concentrated.

But the horse was obviously meant to be lead by the rider, for the horse didn't answer. But the horse didn't answer for a number of reasons.

Jude sat atop the horse for while, covered in shadow.

_This isn't so bad...it's almost peaceful…_

Two powerful horses galloped past Jude, one of the riders locking eyes with her. She saw the Saracen crest on their armor. "Wait, no—!" they called, but she had dismounted the horse and started running in the other direction. She breathed in through her nose, and out through her teeth. _You're not going to catch me this time.

* * *

_

"Wait, no—!" Malik said from behind Altaïr. He heard Malik rear the horse, and Altaïr did as well.

"What is it?" Altaïr shouted over the wind.

"It's her!" Malik pointed with his left hand to the retreating white shape in the distance. My heart leapt in my throat. "Why is she running?" Malik was bewildered.

"It's the disguise!" Altaïr spurred his horse further.

This was, as we say, a bad move.

The horse stopped abruptly, and bucked its back legs up, throwing Altaïr off and skidding across the dirt ground. He coughed once before standing up, and grabbing Malik's outstretched hand, pulling him up onto the horse behind him.

"Nicely done, Altaïr." He smirked, riding faster.

"She's going towards the gorge!" Altaïr shouted.

"_Yaaah!" _Malik cried, urging his horse faster. The beast was creaking from under the combined weight of the men.

"JUDE!" Altaïr shouted. "STOP!"

* * *

Jude stopped the second she heard his voice. If she hadn't, she would've plummeted to her death a hundred meters below. She threw her arms out for balance, her feet teetering precariously on the edge of the gorge. The horse came up on her right, and someone jumped off, she didn't know who. All she was doing was staring at the unbelievable darkness below her. She was gasping; out of breath.

Something pulled her back and held her close, breathing heavily in her hair. The man with the horse went back, though Jude couldn't understand why. "Jude." He whispered. She jolted in his arms, and spun around, tears in her eyes.

"You…" she whispered. Altaïr's face was inches from her own.

"I know." He whispered. "I came back for you." He said, his eyes accenting the rest of his intense face.

This was an expression Jude had no idea what it was. She had never seen it on Altaïr. Was it…relief? No, she's seen that one.

What was it?

Altaïr leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, his body screaming for more and his heart saying to take it slow with Jude.

Jude wasn't breathing. When Altaïr pulled back, she felt her face all hot.

"Let's go home."

* * *

_I seriously wanted to stab my eyes and cut off my fingers when I wrote that last part. In the words of that one part of the Despicable Me trailer, "IT'S SOOO FLUFFFY!"_

_Review plz?  
_


	4. Chapter 4

I hate myself. It's so SHORT. TWSS lol

**Disclaimer: bleeeeghhh...this isn't the product of Ubisoft...BECAUSE NERDS FROM MONTREAL CAN'T WRITE SHIT AS SEXY AS ME. No offense to FF readers in Montreal, though.**

* * *

Malik had gotten Altaïr's horse back, and Jude was riding on it with him. Altaïr loved the feeling of her warm, small body against his strong, large one as the horses trotted back to Masyaf. The entire way there, Malik kept asking Jude questions.

"Did they do anything to you? Are you hurt? Why do you think they took you?" Altaïr chose this moment to interrupt angrily.

"Because they're barbarians! Can't you see that she's tired and exhausted? Of course she's hurt! This is why we must go faster to Masyaf." He barked, spurring his horse (gingerly, this time) for it to go into a steady gallop, as to not jostle Jude around.

"M-M-Master, you m-mustn't be so angry at-t-t M-M-Malik." She stuttered, whispering to Altaïr over the low wind that blew through the kingdom. Altaïr nodded into her hair, and kept quiet for the rest of the journey.

When they arrived back at the castle, there was a group of Masyaf guards waiting for them. One man in front saw the two horses and shouted "They've returned!"

A cheer from the villagers standing by as well as some novices went up, and Jude's face turned into a smile. "I'm so glad you're safenow." Whispered Altaïr, before they dismounted.

Malik came over and steadied Jude as she swayed on the spot, while Altaïr got down. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"F-f-fine." She said, holding her palm to her forehead. "J-just…tired." She yawned, blood rushing out of her head. Malik's hand was joined by Altaïr's on her other side. "I can w-walk by mys-s-self." she said, chuckling at their chivalry.

"We're just following up on our mission. Don't want you to run away from us again, do we?" said Malik, grinning teasingly.

As they walked into the torchlight, Jude looked over at Altaïr. He was wearing…what? "M-Master, what in G-God's name are you w-w-_wearing_?" her eyes were wide, and disbelieving, despite the tiredness so clearly showing in them.

"Desperate measures, Jude." He said, fighting off a smile. Malik laughed from next to her.

As they tugged her up the hill, people gawked in their windows at the Master Assassin, his apprentice, and his best friend as they walked by. "Wh-who are they st-st-st-staring at?" asked Jude.

"Us, but as to why, I'm at a loss." Said Malik, looking around.

When they finally got in front of the Master's desk, Jude was ready to pass out on the spot and sleep a thousand nights. "Jude." Said Al Mualim, shaking her out of her almost-unconsciousness. "I understand that you escaped on your own means?" he was seated at his desk, his hands folded in front of him. For once, he looked equally impressed at all of them.

"Y-y-yes, M-Master." Said Jude, her face turning red as she stuttered. She tried her hardest around Al Mualim, but she was always so nervous in front of him.

"Tell me how." Jude's eyes widened in a desperate plea, and thankfully Altaïr interrupted.

"My apprentice has been suffering from sleep problems, and this entire day has been a long one, for all of us." Altaïr looked over at Malik, who nodded. "Maybe we could continue this briefing in the morning?" he asked.

Al Mualim was never one to take orders, but he treated Altaïr like a son, and he nodded, dismissing them. Malik helped Jude up until they were at the foot of Altaïr's tower, where he bade them farewell and went to his own quarters to sleep. "This t-t-tower is t-t-treacherous." Said Jude, straining her back to look up at the top.

"It's the one I chose." Said Altaïr. "And no one's ever lived in it. It was a guard tower a hundred years ago." Jude climbed the steps next to him, his hand still on her arm.

"And aft-t-ter?" she asked.

"It was nothing. It just stood there. I took the time to fix it, and that's why Al Mualim lets me live here. Besides, I would've lived here anyway, with or without his consent. It has the best view of the kingdom. No wonder it was a guard tower." In the passing moonlight as they walked by a window, she saw Altaïr smiling absently.

He seemed to let his guard down around her. He seemed more relaxed, tranquil; comparing to the other assassins, he was always on-edge and uptight. But Jude was his sedative, his relaxant. His peace.

They found the top of the tower soon after that, Jude nearly falling asleep on Altaïr as he unlocked the door. He ushered her in, and she staggered sleepily off to the other room as Altaïr lit an oil lamp. He noticed her lack of presence and called her name. "Jude?"

"In h-h-here." She said, beginning to take off her belt so she could sleep. Altaïr came in.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Going to s-s-sleep?" she asked, as if she wasn't allowed to. Maybe the late hour was getting to them all.

"Sleep in here." Said Altaïr, pushing back his hood and nodding to his bed in the center of the room.

"Wh-what?" Jude was confused. Altaïr rolled his eyes, and took her wrist.

"I told you…you could sleep there when I have it _ready_ for you. Right now, it looks like a hospital."

"B-but isn't that wh-wh-what it's sup-p-p-posed to l-l-look like?" she asked. She didn't notice Altaïr taking off his belt as well as the sash. He spun her around, still talking as he unknotted her own.

"Not for you, Jude." Jude's face felt hot as he pulled down her hood gently, and touched her face softly in the places she had been hit. His face was a mixture of sadness and rage. "Look what they did to you." He whispered, beside himself at that moment.

"It's n-n-nothing. It d-d-didn't even h-h—"

At that moment, Altaïr tilted her head up and kissed her **((D: just wrote 'killed her'))**softly and slowly, letting his hand slip to the back of her neck. Her warm, untouched neck. Jude moaned softly at the feeling and kissed back, her hands rising from where they were to rest atop Altaïr's shoulders. He deepened the kiss, tilting his head to the side, giving them both more room.

Jude pulled back for air. "M-Master, th-this is against the l—" Altaïr silenced her with another kiss, moving his other hand to her slender waist, guiding her to the bed.

"I don't care. There is no law right now." He whispered in her ear, pushing her body against the bed. They both fell down on the soft spread, locked in a lovers' embrace.

Jude liked this new lawless world. She liked it so much, she had to stop living in it. "Master." She whispered. "We shouldn't."

"You don't want this?" asked Altaïr, pushing himself up from on top of her, his knees tangled between hers on the bed. He looked hurt.

"Yes. Of c-course I do. I always d-did." Jude reached up to touch his scarred lip, and stroked the side of his face. He leaned into the gentle touch, straining for comfort. "It's just…I don't want-t anything to c-come b-between us th-th-that we might not w-w-want…"

"I understand. I won't ever make you do something you don't want to do." He promised, playing with her hair at the root of her neck, massaging the softest skin there. Jude closed her eyes in ecstasy, moaning into the feeling. "Though…" he said, a smirk crossing his face.

He leaned down again, pressing himself against her, loving the small squeaks and husky moans coming from that beautiful mouth of hers. Glorified in the divine friction between their two bodies, he leaned his head down, capturing her lips in his own. He breathed warm air onto her face through her nose, and she gasped a little.

He rocked his hips slightly against her, moaning low and almost inaudibly. He didn't want to show weakness. "God." He whispered against her lips. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his back, where she pressed down, holding him closer to her. Altaïr licked her lips, asking for entry. Jude gladly obliged, opening her mouth for him to explore.

As their tongues danced, Jude began to fumble with Altaïr's robes, making little, if no progress at all. With a frustrated huff, she flipped Altaïr onto the other side of the bed, with her straddling him now. She began to pull over her assassin robes, with Altaïr helping her along until she was only clad in a light shirt and her tight pants. "W-why am I th-the onl-ly one with-thout their clothes on?" she asked. Altaïr laughed, something she had never heard before. Well, she'd never kissed him, she'd never touched him this way, among a number of other things she was setting records for, she was sure.

"You must promise me this won't evolve into anything we would regret later." He said, sitting up with Jude in his lap, sucking hard on his neck. He moaned, clutching her to him, desperate for more of the sweet pain she was giving him.

"Unless…that's wh-what you w-were…implying…" she whispered into his neck, her voice clouded with lust. Altaïr vaguely remembered whispering those same words the night before.

Altaïr's eyes rolled into the back of his head when Jude had found that _one place_ between his collarbone and his shoulder and had started biting at the soft flesh, tonguing it from time to time. He gasped, holding her head there as he moaned her name loudly, falling back onto the bed.

"Shhh." Said Jude, silencing him with her lips. "Someone will h-hear." She whispered breathily. She found a grip on his robes and began to tug them up towards Altaïr's head, where it was still rolling around in ecstasy.

After the robes were fully off and on the floor, she pulled his tunic out of his pants, making him moan loudly again as the fabric rubbed past that one (somewhat important, somewhat sensitive) spot down there. As she pulled the shirt off, discarding it to the side, she marveled in the beauty of the scars all over his torso, each one telling a story.

She crawled back up his chest, laying herself flush with his hips. She rested her head on his chest, playing with the dark red spot on his upper collarbone. He breathed a shuddering sigh, and moved his hand up to that sensitive spot on the nape of her neck.

They both fell asleep, pleasured in their own moments of temporary peace.

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...

_okay it's time to review now._


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